Jack Begins
by mirrorimage1918
Summary: Jack Napier is the mysterious flawless stranger who ten year old Molly is fascinated by but when certain events take place is Napier as flawless as he seems. The origin of The Joker.
1. Ch1: Hysterical

(So this is my take on the origin of Jack Napier aka The Joker.  
Not being a fan of the origins he's given reasons on my profile I've taken a stab at one though I've most likley failed  
I hope you enjoy this I'm sorry for the lack of Mr Napier in this chapter but if its liked I'll put some more up.)

Ch 1: Hysterical.

When I was packing my things my mother turned to me with a tear in her brown eyes and said:

"Did that thing have any decency at all?"

I knew who she was referring to. The one and only, Jack Napier.

The hearts of my peers in school would fill with ghoulish stories, by the wince of his name like he where an animal in cage. But thinking back to my childhood memory, I never recall him as the monster the ghost stories portray him as. But he was neither an angel, by no account. The best I could describe Jack Napier was by calling him color. Every room and person was black and grey, and he was the color. He had the power to give and take whatever he pleased. He was feared and loved all the same. He ruled the lower end of Gotham City like God.

The lower end of Gotham to this day is not a pretty place, though it is far more cleansed than I recall in my childhood years. In those days brothels shined their glittery signs at passers by, where bars where open all night to the point wives had to claim their husbands from the poor lit places (which would usually result in a black eye or two). In the days where you would play on your stereo, an innocent track like Michael Jackson - Billie Jean and dance in the comfort of your bedroom, some poor neighbor across the street caught in a brawl with the thugs of Gothams underworld would hear it as their final song.

My family and I where unlucky enough to be in a steady home in Gothams lower end. We where one of the few families who where lucky enough to have a home and not a dusty crammed apartment. It was not until I was older did I realize that families with homes in Gothams lower end where involved with Dean Falcone.

Dean Falcone, the father of Carmine Falcone a familiar face in the modern Gotham crime ways. I knew Carmine when he was a young man, and his father when he was nearing his death bed. I'd loved Dean Falcone with all my heart he was the Grandfather I'd never had, Carmine however I was not so sure with. He told me to call him uncle but unlike his father I never got a family bond with him instead I had a secret disgust for him that I could never quite understand. But as I grew older I discovered it was a mutual thing, but now I'm getting sidetracked from the point of this chapter an introduction to the man of the hour.

The first time I ever met Jack Napier was at a funeral when I was ten.

A friend of my fathers had died someone within the Falcone working circle, so out of respect the whole family was dragged along. I of course was not happy, but just by my fathers angry look I zipped my mouth shut. Unlike most children within the lower end of Gotham my brother and I didn't need to be beaten into submission all my father had to do was give us 'the look' and we where quiet. Upon arriving I instantly met as I called him at the time 'Grandpa Dean' where I was whisked away from my fathers side. He said to me "Sandra (my mothers name) my you've shrunk." I giggled and cocked my head to the side, saying "Its me grandpa Dean." He would pull his shocked face, which never failed to amuse me stating "You grow prettier each time I see you I thought you where your mother.". I always enjoyed Deans company, he would sneak ten dollars in my pocket and tell me to run along, he'd let me beat him up whilst pulling silly faces, and allow me to play cards with him though the rules never stuck in my brain and had to be re-taught them every time I played, things that real Grand fathers do. We where spending the after party of the service at Grandpa Deans mansion of a home, it surprised me no one had ever tried to rob it especially since it being in Gothams lower end, but if they ever did they'd be dead and that my dear reader isn't an overstatement.

It was there I lay my ten year old eyes on Jack Napier. The minute he walked into the room the party rose from its mourning and transformed into the immature fun nature of a bachelor party because it was graced with his presence. He told the best jokes, (I came to this conclusion from every time he spoke to someone they'd suddenly burst into hysterics). He was the best card player in the house (I knew this from overhearing someone bitch about it). But what I found the most surprising of him, was his constant grin. Whenever someone spoke to him he smiled, when drinking beer he smiled, when loosing money at cards he smiled, when the speeches of honoring the dead mans memory came and those that knew him or didn't shed a tear for his soul, he still grinned to his hearts content.

My poor ten year old brain was rattled by this revelation. I was always taught that funerals where a sad occasion and here was this man breaking the code of civilization. It was then I decided Jack Napier was the most beautiful man I'd ever lay my eyes on. Not because he was attractive god no! My ten year old tomboyish mind would punch boys before kissing them. Even when I remember back in a more mature state of mind Jack Napier was not attractive, but maybe I'm saying that because it wouldn't be a mature thing to acknowledge a man like Jack as attractive. He was a medium weight and seemed to hunch his shoulders all the time, when he wasn't speaking he had a silver dollar coin laced through his fingers, his skin was tanned but he still seemed sickly pale I cant describe how there was just this look of sickness inside him, and his hair was a dirty blonde not brown, not blonde, but dirty blonde a hybrid of the two if you will. He wasn't some ghoulish monster with fangs and a glass eye but there was something not right with him. But he still has to be the most beautiful person I've ever met. For the simple reason that he could mask every flaw built inside him, and contain every dark fantasy dwelling, every distain and hatred to the common man, to the point he was to the untrained eye, perfect.

Of course being ten I wasn't philosophical enough to grasp that idea and instead was curious as to why the sly grin always stood on his face, so during the time when music blared and people reigned the dance floor I approached him. "Mr." I stated tugging his jacket sleeve. He turned to face me, I was taken off guard for a second. The look in his eyes just seemed to have this way of placing you on an operating table and dissecting every part of your personality in one look. However he blinked and I was composed enough to ask. "Why are you always smiling." His tongue slivered on his bottom lip, his hand fell on my shoulder nailing me to the ground, and with a grin revealing his surprisingly white teeth he said: "Because its all so fucking hysterical." Before I had a chance to question what he meant, my fathers arm yanked me back from Mr Napier's grip. He looked up at my father smiling still. "Is this your little cub Harry? She's pwitty." He stated up to my father. In what I now recognize was a mock at politeness. Without a word my father pulled me away walking far away from Napier, whispering in my ear; "Don't you ever talk to him again." But I was still pondering in my head…..what was hysterical about a funeral?

But as I later learned everything was hysterical to Jack Napier.


	2. Ch2: Reality

Ch 2: Reality

The first time I began to question my fathers involvement with Grandpa Dean was the night of the funeral. My brother and I where in our room, our house being too small for us to have separate rooms. My brother Tom, would lay awake long after I had shut my eyes with a small reading light blaring as he sunk his teeth into his true love, books. I tried to read some of them but a lot where too mature for me that I didn't understand their contents. I instead indulgenced in comics of childish fantasy, where my imaginary flooded with ideas and flourished with creation of literary nonsense, being ten I was drawn to anything that wasn't realistic believing the impossible was reality. My brothers imagination had died since turning thirteen. He was now reading things of 'realistic' action that now looking back I realize had the most appalling content ever, each piece being practically 'die hard' only more cheaply done with the corniest dialogue. I was unable to sleep however. The day of the funeral had been rattling at my brain. Why did my father pull me away from Jack Napier? Like most children my curiosity got the best of me so I asked my brother, who I thought in my small mind was the epiphany of all knowledge.

He was the one who confirmed Santa's nonexistence when I was six and he was nine, having stayed up all night and seeing my mother place the presents by the tree and eating the cookies we had baked. He was the one who told me I had to do his chores or else the boogie man would come and get me. So of course being a fool I asked him what was on my mind.

"How come dad doesn't like Mr Napier?" I asked him. He was silent. This was the first time my brother was silent which was the first danger flare in my mind. My brother had less common sense than me, his thirteen year old mind revolving around trivial things one of which was playing on my naïve mind, so it was unlike him to not just yell out the first random thing on his mind, which being ten I always believed, and he always got a kick out of. "Cause he's bad okay." He stated clearing his throat. "Now go back to sleep okay." I didn't understand. "I thought all the guys who worked with Grandpa Dean where good guys." I stated. My brother sighed shutting his comic. "You remember what I told you about them?" My brother questioned. I nodded. "You said that dad works for grandpa Dean helping people." I slurred out in my ten year old high pitched voice. My brother gulped. "That doesn't make him a good guy though." I was confused. "Listen its time you started to realize." He paused I didn't face him instead I lay on my bed listening to his words in vivid detail. "Just cause dad works with Dean doesn't mean you have to be so nice to him. I mean you shouldn't be rude but you shouldn't be so clingy you should be polite but you don't need to be so close."

I was speechless. Years ago in the blissful days before Tom had become such a pain, Grandpa Dean would take us to the park, he would buy us ice creams and now he had turned his back on him. I was so angry I couldn't speak and lay stewing in rage. Tom didn't bother to ease my anger all he did was state. "Hey don't go in a huff….. you don't know what they really do there." And all was silent. Soon Tom turned off his light and fell asleep but I was unable filled to the brim with rage. Then I began to question, so what does my father really do if not go on missions of aid for what? To my reader I'm sure the answer is obvious but to a ten year old you wouldn't believe the possibilities that stormed through my head. Exhausted from thinking, I glanced at the alarm clock perched on a small wooden table across my bed. 2.30am.

My father would soon rise for his nighttime shift where he would not return until breakfast, the sound of his thumping boots past my doorway always woke me up. Like a light bulb had just been turned on inside the dark map of my mind, I came up with an idea. What if I snuck along? He'd never know I was there surely. Plus it would be a chance to prove Tom wrong, a power I'd never had the ability to do before. Stumbling out of bed in a pair of black pajamas I crept steadily to the door of my bedroom following the glimpse of light peering out of the bottom of the door. Once close enough my eyes made out the handle of the door. Once opening the door with a new shed of light shinning on the room allowing me to see again, I turned back to my brother, making sure he was asleep then, I pulled myself out of the bedroom and crept the door shut. Silent.

With the stealth of a cat, I crept along the hallway, down the stairs, out of the door, outside and into the garage. Shutting the door behind me I crept towards the car bumping into a few things along the way until I finally made it to the trunk of the car. I never did pay attention to the car much mainly because being ten I didn't understand them much and it being such a long time ago I hardly remember the car, all I can recall was it was black, with a long front, the make is out of question. I pulled the trunk open with all the strength in my chubby little frame. My father never locked his doors, and not once was he ever robbed, people where too afraid to steal his car. He also never ever put anything in his trunk. I don't know why if he had luggage or a suitcase or if a passenger had a suitcase he'd never put it in the trunk. Looking back at all the foreign things my father did I understand the majority, but this still puzzles me. Having never seen him put anything inside the trunk, my young mind was expected to see treasures or guns or something exotic hidden away from human eyes but there was nothing. Disappointed I climbed in and shut the trunk quickly awaiting my fathers arrival. Then in what seemed like an hour but was probably ten minutes the opening to the garage beeped open. There was two entrances to the garage, a small door or the opening for when the car was needed to come out which my father usually only ever opened being the only one who could drive.

My fathers boots thumped on the ground, and headed towards the car. The door to the car creaked open and I felt his weight on the car seat. With a slam the door was closed. Sounding identical to the murmur of a horse the engine began, the car was alive and moving. I kept as quiet as I could, breathing softly and making sure not to wriggle. Excitement was pouring into my mind. Would I see dragons in my adventure. Would I cross into a magical World, with lions as kings and witches in the sky? Suddenly the car stopped. But the engine was still alive. Then I heard in unison the sound of doors being flung open carelessly and more weight being built into the car. With two loud bangs the doors where closed and the car was back on its journey. "Harry you looking blue there?" Questioned the voice of Carmine. "No I'm fine yourself?" My fathers voice slummed out. "I'm fucking terrible, the weather out there is ridiculous I swear to god I saw some homeless guy freeze to death!" A loud cough erupted from Carmines throat. "Hey if your gonna cough, do it away from me I don't want your flu." Came the voice of Jack Napier. "What?" Carmine gasped out finishing his coughing fit. "Hey you've got all the symptoms…."

"Are you crazy? I don't have the flu!!" Carmines voice blared out. "I'm not one to judge. But keep your germs away from me." "You cant be serious. I don't have the flu! I've just got a cough. What's the matter with you Jack?" "Didn't you complain of a headache yesterday." My fathers voice questioned. "It was a hangover what's wrong with you two?" Carmine screamed. "I still find it a coincidence." Jack drabbled on. "You know what lets just drop it cause I don't see good coming out of this conversation." "You did bring the gun didn't you Jack?" Questioned Carmine, my whole body raised with curiosity. Why would he need a gun? "I don't like them." Jack pouted like a child would. "Jack." Carmines voice bellowed. "Yes I brought it." "We're here to talk right?" My father questioned. "Yes." Carmine stated. "What you lookin at me for?" Jack stated. "Look Jack all we're doing is questions rough them up a bit that's all okay?" Jack let out a sigh. "Fine….so Harry…how's my little girl?" I could practically feel the eerie smile groom his lips when he spoke about me. "Shut up Jack right now." My fathers voice spoke. "What?" Jack asked letting out a small laugh. "I know what your doing so stop it." "Doing what?"

"I thought I told you to stay away from his kids." Carmine blustered, something that struck me as odd. Jack began laughing hysterically. "Come on she walked up and talked to me. What was I suppose to do just walk away like she didn't exist?" "Yes." My father said. "Figured you'd say that." Everything was silent, but it wasn't a usual silence of comfort because people ran out of things to say, it was a tense silence that made me curl my toes. "What's that suppose to mean?" My father growled out his voice filled with anger that it made me shiver. I hated hearing him angry, mainly because whenever I heard him angry I'd done something wrong. "Guys lets just leave this." Carmine spoke, but was ignored. "You know damn well what I'm talking about." "No I don't so enlighten me." "You practically ignore your kids Harry, everybody knows it. You clock in that house maybe spend a little time with that doll of a wife and clock out. It doesn't surprise me if those kids have daddy issues. I may be a bad wittle man in your ever holy eyes Harry but at least I spend time with my kids."

"You don't have any kids Jack!" "That's beside the point it's an expression." "I've never heard that expression before you freak." Abruptly the car became silent. When I was ten sitting in that trunk with only the darkness in my view I had no idea what was going on in the front of the car. But in my recollection, I remember a sound quickly before all became silent and now I know that Jack Napier had pulled a gun at my fathers head. "Jack put it down." Carmine stated, in a rasp voice. "You gonna shoot me, shoot me." My fathers voice ran out with not an inch of fear in its tone. In that moment my father was a man without fear, a man of nothing to loose which is worse than anything because Jack Napier was a man constantly without fear and never had anything he cared about to lose. Both where sat trying to make the other sweat, which is deadlier than a game of Russian roulette. "Alright that's it put it down now, Jack." Carmine's voice rattled in an angrier tone than my fathers voice could ever reach, it made me shake, there was a noise and suddenly it felt like peace had been restored. Ironic because in a way, it had just began to crumble. "Now both of you say your sorry its like talking to a bunch of third graders!"

They did and conversation followed in a normal routine, but I was no longer in the mood for paying attention. A new shred of darkness had fell upon me not the kind that would blacken my eyesight but blacken my soul. Their pervious conversation was enough to put me at ease, because all my childish hopes and ideas about my father where slowly withering and a new dawn of reality started to piece itself inside of me. All of a sudden the car stopped, but this time the engine died with it. Showtime. I waited patiently. Feeling their weights slide out of the car, the doors closed with loud bangs, their feet thumped across the concrete. Then a door creaked open and finally closed, ending in only the whistling wind as comfort. I opened, the trunk and peered my head out to make sure no one was in sight. Seeing none I pulled it completely open and stepped open, I saw fit to leave it open after all it'd mean I'd have a quicker chance of retreating back to my hiding place. I looked outside. I never did see this place again, and even in my adult years have never returned. It was somewhere in the lower end of Gotham, I know that from the, walls covered in graffiti, dumpsters neglected, and ally cats hurled in corners dominating the street. There was only one building that wasn't boxed up like trash, with a single blue painted door. In my dreams to this day when I have a nightmare whatever the circumstances, I'm being chased by a dog or a man I always see that blue door.

But this isn't the present I'm talking here about the past. I dared not peer through the door too fearful I would be spotted instead I lay my eyes on a small crumbled window by the right side of the door. Moving in closer, the curtain of the window was closed, but not to the complete bottom. Kneeling down, I could peer into the window, and I did just that. Ignoring, the mud that engulfed my pajama bottoms, the chilling air of Gotham streets, and the darkness of the sky above me. I had to see this. For a few minutes I was staring into an empty room, although I could hear sound but it was distant. I let out a sigh. So I suppose Tom was right, my father was just an uneventful man, there where no dragons no adventure. Almost like fate when I was just about to get up a loud roar emerged from inside and in my sight I saw a body fly across the room. Keeping still, I watched as the mysterious mans face crashed to the ground, smothering himself and the floor below him in blood. I was horrified but couldn't pull myself away. In my sight a new man was placed by the wall being tied to a chair. I began to shake. It was my father who was tying him up. Carmine Falcone stood a few feet away.

Then my eyes followed onto a familiar face, still grinning. My heart was pulsing watching Jack Napier stand in front of the man on the floor grinning to his hearts content. It was then I was dawned with the terrifying sense of reality. I then understood what Tom meant, but it was all too late of a realization and I was here too terrified to stay but, too mesmerized to leave watching the show, with Jack Napier in the lead role. "What's up pal?" Jack questioned grinning with all his might. The man on the floor spat out blood from his mouth gasping for air. Jack wiped his hand on his black suit having not changed from the funeral. "How about a joke." Jack kneeled down to the blood covered stranger. "Two blondes are walking down the road as

a funeral goes by. "Who do you think has died?" says one. "Don't know," says the other, "But it's

my guess it's the one in the coffin."" Jack broke into hysterics over his own joke, the man on the floor just lay there, bubbles blew out from the blood drenching his mouth. The man tied to the chair let out a small giggle. In the heat of the moment, Jack swiftly turned to him. "What so funny?" Asked Jack in a different tone of voice. The man on the chair coughed. "T…h..e…j…o..k..e." He stuttered out. "What you think I'm funny?" Jack questioned angry. "Like I'm some clown, here to amuse you. Some freak put on this planet to fucking amuse you." On the sleeve of Jacks jacket I noticed a black block in the palm of his hands. "Cause you know what makes me laugh more than anything seeing people like you bleed to death." My eyes widened. "Finish him Jack."


	3. Ch3: Secrets

Ch 3: Secrets

|A lot more Jack in this one sorry for the lack. Pleasant reviews would be nice.|

BANG!

My whole body trembled. My bottom lip wobbled furiously under my top lip. My hands shook. I couldn't make a sound, I was just paralyzed inside myself. The man on the chair with one swift motion dropped forward, not before I noticed his eyes roll to the back of his head and part of his brain escape out of the gaping hole in his forehead along with a sea of red blood flow outwards. "What the fuck did you do that for? We came here to talk!" Carmine screamed out, clenching his fists. "You told me to finish him." Jack stated, confused by it all. "I wasn't being serious it was to put fear in him I almost had that bastard." Carmine shouted running his hands through his brown hair. "Well he's dead now.…" Jack giggled out. "I can see that caption fucking obvious this isn't some joke, what the hell did you do that for?" My eyes switched to my father who stood with a grim face, his black hair seemed to have grown a length like it was ready to leap off and jump out of the room. The man on the floor had stopped moving also. "I don't trust the stuttering people they mumble too much." Jack said calm as the ocean waves. "What are you a sick maniac?" Carmine questioned with genuine disgust in his voice. "Hey it was a good shot." Jack said proud. "You fuckin' shoot a guy and all you have to say is it was a good shot you sick bastard clean this up."

I guess now when I look back it was things like this that was Jacks undoing. Jack took too many chances he was a wild ace of spades in a pack of pure diamonds, different strange and just plain crazy to the core. Jack Napier's eyes then flickered over to the window. At first his eyes skimmed along, to the sky, but then they locked straight onto mine. There was a burn of satisfaction in his eyes of finding me. Murders are addicted to killing, I'm sure that's obvious to everyone, they have a need to kill and like any addiction they need more of the substance to get the high. For Jack Napier however it couldn't be fulfilled anymore, he was bursting through his facade of a common hit man. Killing one man per day wasn't enough, he needed more. And right now I was in his eyesight. Even as a child I felt like a lamb in the eyes of a predator. "The fuck is that?" Jack questioned. Both Falcone, and my father turned to look outside. I was a deer caught in headlights, blinded, terrified, with no place to run. But I still had to try. The easy solution would have been to run back to the trunk slam it down and pray to God they didn't hear its sound. Instead I was in such a panic, I just darted from the window and ran.

The wind blew on my cheeks making my cheeks burn from the cold, I could now feel the sludge of mud drip from my pajama bottoms. But I still ran with all the strength within me. I could hear the door spring open and I heard their feet's rush across the pavement. I dared not look at the ground or behind me I just kept looking ahead. Running. Running. Running. I really should have been looking at the ground below me, because there was a crack in the concrete ahead. Eventually my shoe came into contact and I landed on the ground. In usual chasing situations I would had time to get to my feet and run again. But these where desperate men chasing me a hungry breed of individuals who stop at nothing to get their desire. I can still hear their voices near me and remember the fear that crept up my neck. Filled with no other option I threw my hands over my eyes, praying that if I couldn't see them they couldn't see me. They stopped before me. "Hey it's a kid." My fathers voice stated. "I don't care if it's the president shoot it before it calls the cops." I lowered my hands revealing myself. Both Carmine, and my father stood still. Silence. Jack had yet to catch up. My fathers face softened and he lowered his gun. "Awh Jesus." He spoke. Carmine lowered his own his lip raised in a snarl.

Jack caught up his gun raised. "Good you waited." He spoke exhilarated. My father pushed his gun out of his hands and on the ground. "Put that away. Its my daughter." My father spoke looking down at me. A mixture of shame and guilt washed over his face. Carmines was mixed with fear and shame. Jacks face was simply disappointed that he hadn't have been quicker and got the chance to put me on the end of the gun. I looked away feeling incredibly on target with all three men staring blankly at me. When I next looked up Carmine had his hands rushing through his hair again. My father was keeping his eyes on Jack who was sitting on the concrete staring into space. "Can she keep a secret?" Carmine finally spoke, ending the silence. My father simply replied. "She's my daughter." Carmine nodded as if he understood. "Jack come here a moment." Carmine said moving away from us. Jack jumped to his feet and followed they began to go back into the blue door, leaving both me and my father alone. I tried to speak a few times, but my voice cracked and I shook remembering the blood and the horror of it all. Eventually I found my voice and said "Does mom know?" I had to stare at the ground, I just couldn't look at him. My father paused I assume to try to find out how he could best phrase his words. "Your mother knows that the Falcone family have a lot of bad business. She also knows that without them we'd be on the street." I gulped trying to ask another question but all that would come out was "And Tom?" My father let out a sigh. "He thinks he does but he doesn't know it all." I began to shake on the pavement. My father tried to put his arm around me for comfort but I just turned my head to the side away from him.

All my young life, my father was this source of fantasy, of God like behavior and now he had crushed my sprit. Crushed my imagination and my heart. I lay in silence. He stood in silence. Several minutes passed. The sound of the blue door opened. Carmine and Jack stood outside. "Come on." Said my father. He held out his hand, for me to take. I grabbed it and he pulled me up to my feet. I let go and looked down in my hand to see blood. I wiped it on my pajamas shaking slightly following my father from behind. In a matter of seconds we where beside my fathers car. Carmine was in the front passenger seat, while Jack was going to be sat beside me. My father climbed in the driver seat, I climbed in the passenger seat. The sound of the door made me shutter, the loud ring of it reminded me of the bang of the gun. It wasn't long before the engine became alive and we where moving away from the place of my nightmares. My father and Carmine where in deep conversation but I dared not pay attention to it, I didn't want any more horrors filling my mind. "Pst." A voice came from beside me. I turned over to see Jack. "Wanna hear something funny?" He asked in a low key whisper. I nodded hoping the art of comedy could cool my senses. "We're all murderers in this car. You know that when you where born you had to fight your way into the womb? So technically just by being born you let hundreds of small little creatures die. So your just like us. But you have no idea what I'm talking about do you?" I shook my head in complete despair at what he meant exactly.

"What the hell do they teach you in school?" Jack questioned, the car came to a halt. "Come on Jack." Carmine spoke. He opened his car door. "Harry." He said looking at him giving him a nod of goodbye. He turned away and spoke. "Molly." Then both he and Jack got out of the car and we drove off into the distance in complete silence.

*New POV*

The streets where deadly silent for 4.30 at Gotham lower end. The part of Gotham where the nights really thrived. Carmine reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. "I don't like the idea of a ten year old knowing this. Just think what if talking to a teacher she forgets about her secret and tells the whole class!" The majority of the Gotham police force ate straight out of the Falcones wallet but there was a few son of a bitches in power that would try to, actually do something about it. Of course there wouldn't be anything done but what if the FBI happened to become interested, then business would be cut short and all precautions would have to be taken. Which is an unnecessary hassle. "What you trying to say?" Jack questioned rubbing his thumb across his fingers. "I think we need to keep her quiet you know little girls with imaginations." Jack was not repulsed by the idea he merely shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "What about Harry?" Carmine pressed the cigarette to his lip. Harry was a good worker, but his children where his life line cut them and they'd see hell. Carmine looked at him. Jack knew what he was asking. Kill Harry. "That idea has been growing in my brain for sometime." Jack announced. "But the guys been a close friend of mine for years sure we talk dirty and all but there's love in those eyes. Its like if your mom stabbed you its not like your gonna turn a knife on her you'll patch it up and giggle later." Jack suddenly burst in hysterics making Carmine jump. "It'd be so weird if I really was like that? When?" Jack questioned. Carmine smiled. "Not now but soon."


	4. Ch4: True Colors

Ch 4: True Colors.

|Sorry the last chapter was a little corny I was falling asleep writing it I hope this ones better Sorry its short but I wanted to build suspense.|

From then on the, days went on with regularity over and over, one day indistinguishable from the next. A long aching, continuous chain. Wake up, get ready for school or the weekend, breakfast sit silently near the liar that is my father. I had began to resent him in these past days my sleepless nights filled to the core with blood and that man on the floor drowned by his own blood, waking up in a cold sweat it chills me knowing he played a part in it. And the one on the chair tied bound and slaughtered like cattle. Tom attempts to make me feel okay but nothing can make you feel okay after you are dawned with the reality that everything you believe in is a lie. And on top of that you know what else I discovered in those weeks. The tooth fairy was another lie. After school or reading in the sun (I had long stopped my childish games of adventure with friends seeing no more point) usually Grandpa Dean would come over, although he made it seem like he was doing it to try to salvage a relationship with me part of me even then knew it was just to make sure I was keeping our secret. Carmine sometimes would come over he couldn't even look at me. In the weeks that followed I knew why, but at that time I felt disgusting. Then suddenly, came a warm ripe change.

It happened when I came home from school, the usual routine had panned out as normal, except my new found slow walking and careless chatting to friends had resulted in the sky turning to black when I arrived home, along with a foreign car in the driveway. I was ready to walk up the path to my door, frowning and full of angst as I had been in these last few days. It makes me sad when I look back because if I knew all the knowledge I know now, I wouldn't have allowed myself to be this empty shell I would have been on my best behavior savoring the taste of my family. But then came the scream and change came like a thunderbolt. I stayed by the hedge in fear looking through the window trying to see something. And I did. My mother in tears and a family friend Jack Napier, licking his lips in delight with a knife in the palm of his hands. "Where?" Jack questioned, in what I had likely found him at the end of his sentence. My mother stayed still her light brown hair looking blonde at the top from the lamp light shining on her head. "Sandra…I'm…waiting." Jack growled. My mother breathed in, absorbing her tears. Jack pushed her at to the wall, pressing his knife to her throat. "Sandra." He growled.

"You think your gonna scare me so I'll let you shoot my baby." Jack began to laugh. "What kind of man do you take me for? I'd never shoot her. No. No. See guns just depersonalize the situation. Killing is like breathing to me. Each second you want to savor the oxygen all the more. Guns take away the power, they can be used for distance and all. But what makes a kill special a gun that goes bang and swish the magic's gone, or something that allows you to savor each face of death." My mother quivered, as did I in the bushes. "I knew you where sick but I never thought you'd say things like that." She said disgusted. "There's a lot of things your not aware not Sandra Dee." My brother walked into the room. He was most likely stuck to the end of his walkman (ipods weren't invented in these days of living), and had only recently tore himself away from the murderous grip only to see my mother in a very different one. My brother ran towards Jack like a cannonball. Jack dropped my screaming mother, with ease he struck my brother across the face. My mother in hysterics ran towards him. I later learned Jack had broken his jaw in at least two places it took him over a year to heal properly. "I'm gonna be back tomorrow. When I come you make sure she's waiting." And with that Jack Napier left.

Once his car had drove from our home I made my way inside. My mother was in hysterics holding my brother, drool came from his mouth uncontrollably with that fearful red liquid I dread, all too well. His blonde hair was patched in sweat. My mother looked up at me. "Watch Tom a sec." She stated before leaving him, and running up the stairs. I couldn't touch him I just stared in shock. I don't think I'd ever seen someone hit so hard. Growing up in the lower end of Gotham it was inevitable to see kids with a black eye, or bruises smothering their tiny frames but I'd never seen a broken bone by one hit before. He just lay there still, his pride had taken a more serious beating than his face. I was just left speechless. Soon my mother came down the stairs holding in her arms two black suitcases. She dropped them by the bottom of the stairs, gasping for air. Suddenly the door pushed itself open, she let out a scream. My father just stood and looked at her confused. "Oh Harry." She screamed in tears. He placed an arm around her. "You where right." Was all that escaped her quivering lips.

"Have you packed the bags." She nodded. "Do they not expect you to run." She asked her arms still violently shaking. He nodded. "Jack may think you'll just hand her over. But this is just Carmines way of getting rid of unnecessary causalities." My father let out a sigh. My father and Dean Falcone shared the kind of morals you seen painted on movies about 1940s gangsters, when it came to killing you never touched a child. Carmine didn't follow that route and decided long ago if there was a problem it was dealt with child or not but he even had his morals not touching other members of the family if they could help it. My father glanced to my brother his face twitched with sorrow. "Where do we go?" My mother questioned. "Take Tom to your sisters don't come back here." My father stated. Even Carmine with his morals would crack under desperation. Desperate men are a breed like no other. "What about you and…" "I promise you nothing will happen to Molly." "But…" My father stopped her and they embraced. To a ten year old even with my new perception of reality I though this sentimental show of affection was unnecessary, we'd be fine. But I know now it was them saying goodbye. My father knew he was a dead man the minute his eyes fell on me that day, because he knew he'd have to fight for my life.

My father walked over to my brother. My mother with tears picked up one of the black suitcases. My father knelt down my brother looked up at him. My father reached into his pocket and flung out a coin. "This coin has won me many battles but, I think you and mother need this more than I do." The coin landed on my brothers hand, he turned it round it was double sided, each side being 'heads'. "Make your own luck." He whispered before he turned away. My mother walked to Tom and placed an arm around him, and just like that they escaped from our lives. Word had not got out yet about the feud, so they had just about time to get to the bus station and leave. My father and I waited at least ten minutes before we joined them in leaving our home. We took the car. At first we just drove around in circles. Going nowhere just driving. I still didn't speak, than all of a sudden we came to a stop. I looked up we where at a diner. "You hungry?" I shook my head at my fathers question. "Well come in anyway." He stated. I did as instructed not in the mood for arguing. The restaurant looked like it was lost in time. I think it was a 50s styled diner, but why would you place it in the middle of nowhere. The seats where made to look like old red Chevy cars I don't even know if they where the fashion in the 50s I'm not sure the owners even know. Upon opening the large red door, with a huge 'WELCOME' plastered on, I felt dead. Mainly because the place was as lively as a coffin. A strange old man was sat on his own booth talking to himself I'm guessing his head was full of acid not the coffee.

My father and I sat down, the walls where red and white tiled, with a bright blue carpet the color clash made my eyes sting. My father and I took a seat, we both sat next to each instead of sitting on the opposite side of one another, I think he was just terrified to let me out of his sight. The waitress walked over. The face of a pit-bull with, a curl wool cheep wig on her head. "What you want?" She asked bored. My father ordered, I just stared at the door, then like fate a familiar face happened to walk in. His eyes caught mine immediately. "Harry." My father turned to see him, in a quick second rage plastered my fathers face but then it washed away as he forced a smile. "Fancy that eh?" Jack Napier questioned taking a seat at a table in front of ours. "What are you doing here Jack?" Asked my father. "I'm in here all the time. I should be a stool." Said Jack with his usual half a grin. Both my father and Jack where acting nonchalant, as if they both didn't know what the other was doing. My father running, Jack targeting. See reality is such a grueling thing to bear. In movies in fantasy there's a big argument a build up and then a gun comes out and Bang your dead. In reality your murder wont come out of the blue and shoot you they are subtle and smiling and come at times where you don't have backup and I practically doomed. And that's what Jack Napier was doing hovering over like a vulture ready to attack.


	5. Ch5: Obvious

Ch 5: Obvious.

"I would have been here at noon but a stingray just came out of nowhere and devoured this woman right in front of me." That's when I realized Jack Napier was wrong is so many ways, all of the foundation he had painted over his personality had cracked. It wasn't what he said that disturbed me it was the way he carried a still fresh shocked expression when he said it like he believed every word. It didn't matter what he wore, whether it was a shirt and pants or just the usual suit I saw him in, there was no way to hide the monster anymore. I had finally seen what my father was shielding me from. Although I had come to see Jack do awful things in a way it had only just broke the surface of my small mind, how horrible he was inside. His mystifying charade was just so perfect and flawless it was hard not to mistake him for a simple man on the subway. Instead Jack sat licking his lips, with his disease running through his veins. Pills couldn't cure it, therapy had no charms for a man like Jack, the poison had been injected and his wound of morbid addictions would forever be unhealed. Inside my head at this point I tried to stay composed, telling myself if he spoke to me I'd stay calm. But my eyes where nervous, and I was too obvious. My father however could pass for a golden globe, he was so calm, but then again so was Jack Napier, so he had to keep up with a professional.

Despite my weeks, of neglect to my father I curled into his chest, feeling a little on edge. Well, when a man who pointed a knife at your mothers throat and boasted about the fact he was going to slit your throat was sat a few feet from you it's a hard thing to stay composed. And yet I still don't know why I wasn't scared of him before this moment, I think it was all a little much in my mind, when I think back I remember everything in clear picture, but I think at the time I was in denial hearing what I wanted to hear, seeing what I wanted to see not willing to accept that people we had once been close to, had turned their back on us so easily. At this moment my face was a mask of pure fear, and not a well put together one like the makeup of sanity painted across Jacks face. It was all starting to crumble. But the more my shoulders would shake, or my fingers would twitch nervously the more Jack would know how much power he had in this situation no matter how good, my fathers acting was, I fell apart under Napier's stony glare. The waitress walked over to Jack and took his orders like a robot. No hassle, no unnecessary talk she just took the orders and retreated back to the kitchen. To me she seemed hostel but I suppose if Jack went here as much as he claimed he must have been used to it by now.

My father tapped his fingers on the desk. "Where you heading?" Jack questioned placing his head on his hands grinning towards us. It was a disturbing sight. "Home after this yourself?" My father said in quick speed. "Probably try and pick up a broad on the streets." Jack said truthfully. I know he was telling the truth because he had no reason to lie. I'm sure if my father had turned and said 'So Jack you're here you kill us right', Jack would have just nodded his head. But my father was playing the naive game, just like Jack was playing the waiting game. "How come you've never settled down yet?" My father questioned keeping conversation casual. "I settle down with a girl every night then in the morning I've got time to myself." Jack said with a smile. He was a womanizer, not the kind of one who lied to you like I've said before Jack Napier wasn't a lair he told a woman what was gonna happen but each one was naive enough to think they could change a man like Jack, none ever did succeed. My father suddenly turned to me, "What was that?" It had then occurred to me I had been mumbling to myself. "I'm scared." I mumbled into my fathers ear. "She needs to go bathroom." I raised an eyebrow confused, I didn't say that! Besides I was ten I could go to the bathroom by myself! However I trusted my fathers superior mental powers to my own I went along with it.

We stood up from the booth, and made a trail to the bathroom. "Molly." I turned to face Jack. He stared at me for a long time, until the words "Goodbye." Formed out of his grinning lips. If we had returned from the bathroom I know I wouldn't be alive to tell this tale. My father hurried me into the toilet. Once inside he placed me against a wall and looked around, spotting a window he rushed over. I just watched him curious. He was terrified and it was the first time I'd ever really seen my father terrified. Even now he was hiding most of it, when my father was in the car alone he would do anything to Jack Napier and not care but with me by his side he wouldn't take the risk. He was trying desperately to open a window, but it was glued to a golden chain limiting its amount to move. My father let out a grunt as he pulled the window open. Using all of his strength the golden chain snapped. He turned to me. "Molly come here." I did at once, compelled to. "Come here." He picked me up. "Climb through the window." He told me. I did so swinging my legs over the other side and dropping out onto the pavement. My father climbed over also although with much more ease than I. Upon reaching the other side he pulled me up, and pressed his fingers to his lip. "Not a sound." He said, I nodded gulping.

My father took me by the hand leading me along the side of the restaurant. I glanced briefly looking at the clear windows outside looking into the restaurant. My eyes instantly wondered over to Jack Napier. In his hands he juggled a knife licking his lips watching the unisex bathroom door. I turned away terrified. He wasn't even mused that the waitress would be a witness, but like I said before Jack Napier took risks. One of which was fortunate for myself and my father. The closer we got to our car, a sound of an engine was already playing. Examining further the sight of cloudy fumes beamed from the exhaust of Jacks car. Jack had left his car on. What I expect he was counting on, after all he must have known my father wouldn't give me up, even people like Jack have common sense. He was likely guessing my father would bust me out, then come out to stall Jack, Jack would kill him, then find me, finish the job, finish his meal then home to a nice broad as he put it. You know the perfect evening for a mad man. However my father had other plans. He pulled the keys out of Jacks car and placed them in his pocket. "Get in the car." I did so getting into our own car, while my father got in the drivers seat. Strapping myself in with my seatbelt, the car came to life. I glanced at Jack. We began to move, my eyes stayed on him afraid of what might happen if they strayed from him. He let out a sigh and turned outside. His eyes widened, to this day I've never seen someone jump from their seat so fast.

The waitress was shouting after him but he continued to run, towards us. By this point we where on the road and I had to turn my head to keep looking at him. He ran to his car, then came to a halt obviously noticing it was not making any noise, knowing we had taken his keys. He just stood there staring at the car, and then we where off in the distance. But he was smiling still he was grinning if anything the grin was bigger on his face than I'd seen before. I turned ahead to my father, the scenery was flying past us at amazing speed. Even when we must have been miles away my father didn't slow down. But I wasn't in the mood for questioning anymore. More than anything I was just relieved to be away from it all I didn't know where my father intended on taking us I was just relieved to be alive and able to go there. With that I shut my eyes………Then….suddenly…..the sound of a car revving down the pavement awoke me. I opened my eyes, catching a glance of my fathers face in the interior rear view mirror. Stricken with pure fear. The unstoppable sound was not from our own car I knew this much it had too much horsepower. Still half asleep I glanced behind me to see our visitor. "GET DOWN!" My fathers voice drowned. I ignored in desperate need to see this much more powerful piece of machinery.

"GET DOWN!" My father said once more this time jumping up from his seat and pushing my head down so it was below the glass window at the back of the car, momentarily allowing the car to steer out of control before he jumped back on the wheel. I think my father was afraid Jack Napier would shoot me. I later learned from newspaper clippings 'a mysterious stranger' aka the one and only Jack Napier (I know Jack wasn't lying that he spent so much time there seeing as the waitress didn't name his real name either from knowing what he was capable of or his 50s diner fetish was her only source of income), after having a few too many drinks in the diner he had threatened the waitress and stolen her car, and traveled on the highway to catch us up. This is one thing that gives me comfort in this story the fact he was drunk whilst doing this it reminds me he's human. Of course at the time I was trembling in the back seat feeling like we where being chased by Dracula an unstoppable blood lusting force, but I think in all honesty that Jack was happy we'd gone. He didn't want to kill us, for now your probably raising your eyebrow saying 'yes and pigs fly' but my theory will emerge later. I think Jack was like a ying and a yang, one part of him was relatively decent while the other was overly evil and they co-existed in one another fighting for dominance. Usually the decent side got its way but it was more and more apparent the other side was emerging more often.

This is how I think the scene went down, of course I could be wrong. Celebrating us leaving Jack had a drink, getting caught up in an alcoholic binge he began humoring the waitress with casual conversation. Something like "Those lucky bastards are my first clients to still breathe." Would escape from Jack while the waitress as a joke says something like "Well your not as good as I thought." Finding a moment to rattle his core the dark side began to assert itself, taking over, filling him with an alcoholic rage. Then we're back to the car chase. I was shaking secretly knowing who was chasing us but I kept trying to convince myself otherwise. All of a sudden the acceleration sounded louder and THRASH! We where pushed along the road. "DAD!" I screamed terrified. "Its alright." He said his voice raspy. But I couldn't help but cry. Then it came again, the thrash, we where being run off the road. My father kept his hands on the wheels, but he didn't see the plank of wood in the road. Earlier that day teenagers where playing with their skateboards using pieces of wood as ramps and instead of tidying it up they stacked them up on the road. My father too concerned about a mad man trying to run us over to hover out of their direction, and without warning the car accelerated over them. I remember at that point screaming as we where tossed in the air, flying towards the near baron wasteland on the side of the road. Then came the impact of the ground. We rolled across the road, I was still screaming at this point. Forgive the lack of detail at this part but I'm sure you can understand my memory is vague. I remember loud noises, pain and vibrations like being on a rollercoaster, I don't remember anything visually I'm sure I shut my eyes in fear. Then came a large hit with the window and suddenly…..darkness…..unconscious.

The next thing I smelled sweet gasoline. I tried to open my eyes but I couldn't see. I thought I was blind, later after being cleaned up I realized I was blinded by blood slipping down from my forehead. I was being dragged along pebbled stones I could feel them on my now bare feet. "Molly?" Came the voice of my father and I felt safe. Even when I heard the raw sound of the engine bursting and the car crumbling down in the distance, mixed with the heat of flames over my body, I knew everything was fine. The car was on fire but we where fine, our bags where dying in the flames but we where alive. Everything we'd owned was gone but we where fine and that's what mattered. Materials mean nothing. It was at this moment my father snapped. We where lucky. It was a miracle. I had escaped with a mild concision, cuts, bruises and a broken toe. But that was too near a fatal attack for my father, it was time to fight back.


	6. Ch6: Confusion

Ch 6: Confusion.

[Pleasant reviews would be nice. I'm getting bored of this and wanting to start the sequel seeing as The Joker is a much better character than Jack so there's about one maybe two chapters left.]

When my eyes opened, I was in a strange new environment. This time I was able to see, but it didn't help my confusion. A fan was running in circle above me, going round and round it bored the sight out of me. A large window to my right but, it was guarded by a set of curtains, tightly rolled down. The walls where covered in a stale blue and white striped wallpaper, it seemed to be hurling itself off the walls. I bet if I returned with a UV light to this place I would have seen horrors the eye couldn't have imagined. I was laying on a fairly comfortable bed, if the bed sheets weren't like paper I would have been able to sleep fine. Running water where in my ears. A door was slightly open, on the other side of the room. I pulled myself up from my laying down position. It was then I could feel the pain. My body was a cabinet chest of, bruises, and all things awful, not that it was completely covered I had a few bruises, here and scratches there nothing too serious but at the time I was in shock. When I put my foot down on the ground I screamed. The door on the other side opened. My father bandaged up emerged. He walked over to me. "Molly." He stated. "You have to rest." He placed me in his arms. I curled deep into his chest, he placed me down on the bed. I watched him as he walked back into the door, walking out again I saw his jacket in his hands. He only ever held his coat when he was leaving. "Dad no!" I screamed bolting up, he rushed over to me stopping me getting up further. "Shhh." He stated rubbing my back. "Please don't go." I pleaded holding onto him. "I'll be back soon after that we'll see your mother." He placed me back on the bed, pulled the covers over and said "Get some rest." Then he left, I rolled around in the bed for a longtime before finally falling to sleep. I learned from news paper clippings the following:

In Dean Falcones home, all was silent. Like the night before Christmas all through the house not a creature was stirring not even a mouse well, except the intruder in the long black jacket. Creeping his way through the steady halls, he made his way to Deans bedroom, as he knew there would be no body guards or no one to call. Opening the door and cocking his gun, he threw on the light and with a roar bellowed "Wake up you son of a bitch." Dean fluttered opened an eye then burst open with shock, his once best employee Harry was here with a gun ready to blow off his block. "Harry?" He stated. "Where's Carmine." Dean tried to plead him to stop but all Harry told him was. "Where's the bastard whose made my life jaded." Dean let out a tear. "You know I cant tell you that, my dear." Harry stewed with rage. "How could you do this to me. After all that I've done." Dean let out a sigh. "You where always like a son…" Harry's rage only grew with these words. "You sent a man to destroy me!" Dean let out a sigh. "It was not I. But none the less, I could do nothing but hope for the best." Harry let out a laugh. "You could have called off the hit." Dean only shook his head. "But that wouldn't stop you wanting my son dead." Harry knew his words rung truth just for endangering his family he'd have hung Carmine from a noose. "Harry leave Gotham while you have a chance. Leave with your family now." But Harry couldn't let him get away with this. "You already sold me out. And I'll find your son." With a bang Dean breathed no more, Harry let out tears that flew to the floor. He had searched the home for Carmine, he couldn't afford to be out in public, every thug in lower Gotham wanted his blood he had no choice but to try to follow Deans words with a new life for his wife, daughter, and son.

When I opened my eyes again, my father was beside me, his hands going through my hair. "Dad?" I questioned. He nodded, I leapt up and cuddled him. He was stiff not expecting it. But his arms where soon around me. I felt safe. "Come on." He lifted me up. "Don't stand on that toe now." He told me keeping me in his arms. "Are we gonna see mom and Tom." A smile was on his lips, a sight I hadn't seen in a long time. He nodded. He carried me along a small hall and towards a door, already hung open. Then I snuggled into his chest just feeling at peace, before being layed onto a car seat. It was a new car, my father had stolen it from someone. He rustled in his pockets. "I forgot the keys, I'll be back in a moment." I however was distracted, the previous owner must have had children of his own, that or he was very immature having a small eight page book called 'Dragons'. I rushed to it devouring it and spending at least two minutes staring at the colorful illustrations. It wasn't long before I finished, I put the book down. However my father hadn't returned yet. Bored I began to look around the interior of the car. I have yet to see another vehicle with black leather seats as comfortable as this. It was then I spotted the car keys hidden on the driver seat. My father didn't notice them, in a hurry to leave. I let out a sigh. I'd have to tell him. I opened the car door. I put my left foot on the ground, then put my right heel on the ground using an alternative to the pain of walking. Pulling myself up, I slowly dragged myself to the hotel door. Moving one step with my left, then lifting my right foot up and placing my heel on the ground and balancing my foot in the air. Odd, I swore I glanced behind me to see my father close the door, behind him. As I neared I heard a laugh. As fate would have it when my father returned a small thug named John a family man with a debt to Carmine had spotted my father getting into the hotel room. He had told someone he thought would be fitting to know, hoping to end the debt, the person whose laugh blared into the street. I had now reached the door hearing, "Oh Harry you know me all too well." Jack Napier was here. And this time he meant business.


	7. Ch7: Finale

Ch 7: Finale.

[I know its short but I'm just surprised I was actually able to finish it. I hope you like it. I'm also going to upload an alternative considering The Joker likes to give multiple choices to his past only fair if another choice is uploaded.]

I crept to the door. Dragging my foot on the heel and walking normally on the other. I crept inside slowly keeping as quiet as I could but they where locked in heated conversation. "Jack I swear to God if you touch my daughter with that thing I'll kill you." "Harry I don't think your in a position to give threats." I stopped seeing in the living room part of the hotel room, Jack pointing a gun at my father. I don't remember the scenery all I remember is Jack Napier's face. Each muscle stretched. He was constantly twitching. It was like looking at a mad man on cocaine. He's already fucked up but now he was so much more worse. He was sweating terribly. His hair greasy, his skin pale as if he hadn't been confined in a castle for three years. Dark rings under his eyes, his posture more hunched than usual. "Beside." He said with a giggle. "I've got a shiny thing in my jacket I'm gonna save for her. And don't worry I'll kill you before I get to her you know for honor and dada dada yada….where is she?" "You disgust me Jack." Jack frowned. "I thought we where friends." I raised an eyebrow. "FRIENDS! Jack your pointing a gun at me!" "That doesn't mean I don't like you its just business." Jack suddenly turned to his side and began murmuring something. My father then tackled Jack to the ground. The gun flew out of Jacks hand, as fate would happen it landed a few feet in front of me. I think this was Gods way of testing me. Testing to see if I was moralistic or if I would follow in my fathers footsteps.

I picked up the gun. Jack pulled the shiny knife from his jacket pocket, he drove the knife at my father. "Nighty nigh Harry." He purred in his ear. "NO!" I yelled standing on my broken toe not focusing on the pain more concerned about my fathers pain. Jack looked up at me. "Molly Dolly." He said smiling. I could have pulled the gun on him easily. I had enough right, even in court I had enough justice in my defense. But I stood shivering my finger on the trigger but unable to pull. Not everyone can be pushed into killing, even people under extreme pressure cant take it. I am one of those individuals. Jack stood up with that hungry impulse in his eyes. My father quickly grabbed the knife from Jacks hand. Jack looked down, and my father drove the knife in his stomach. Jack fell backwards, I in return ran to my father. Though it was a pain on my toe. Just like an unstoppable force, Jack Napier got up. His hand firmly on his stomach which leached of red liquid. It made me feel sick. My fathers eyes flashed with panic, but he made no attempt to attack me. He simply looked at me and said "Good job kiddo." And walked away. To this day I still mull over why on Earth he let me live. Was it madness, was it an act of kindness. I cant decide. My father got up also though he was not able to easily walk away. I had to help him to the car despite the pain it had on me I went through it. He drove to the bus station panting, bleeding, he died in that car taking me to a rendezvous with my mother he had set up the following night. He told me to leave him in the car, I did so with tears and met my mother. I found out from a newspaper he died in that car. But this isn't a sad ending in a way its uplifting the death of my father is a sad thing but it gave better opportunities to my brother and I, we lived with my mothers sister in a better side of Gotham with new names and new chances.

A lot can be thought about Jack Napier. I could easily hate him, but if I did it would lead me to a disturbing place where I couldn't return from. I could spend hours wondering about him but the truth is no one knew what he was thinking. He was a perfect enigma the closest people to him didn't know what was capable of doing next. He could pat you on the back as easily as he could send a knife to your gut. He was an insane man. But he was a man. He was an individual growing up on the lower end of Gotham so I guess all considering his environment planned him out to be what he was. I found in a newspaper that he had died in prison on the night where the inmates and criminals ran Gotham and where one man saved us all. I suppose his end was worthy because in the end Jack was a man. So when my mother asked me did that thing have any decency I simply said "He was a man." Because that's all Jack Napier was a man ruled by a thread of unstable emotions causing him to be an unstable man. He laughed, he drank, he drove just like any other man. But I swear to you when I watched the news and saw a man in clown painted make up it was like seeing the monstrous side of Jack reincarnated. Because Jack had two sides to him, a human side and a monster.

What Really Happened To Jack:

Jack Napier clutched the bars on his cell. Fifteen years. Fifteen years, contained like an average nobody, just because he didn't get the girl. Just because in an impulsive urge, he decided to let the kid go. And now they turned their back on him. Jack Napier, the man who made the Falcone empire. All those years ago when Dean first met he and Harry two teens in lower end Gotham just floating in the sea of scum, he saw him and smelled it from him. The lack of compassion, the lack of emotion, the lack of anything human. He also saw Harry and saw from his ragged clothes the desperation of a soul and knew he could use them both. And he did and what an empire he created by them. But now Carmine had taken over since his death, he had already destroyed the pretty empire. Deans empire had ethics, wouldn't deal freaks of the Gotham underworld and would actually give things back to its people. Carmine had abolished those rules and now on the streets no one in Gotham had spine or sprit all that was left was a place where being in prison made more sense than going back out there. Jack, loathed Carmines Gotham. Although Deans empire itself was, built on cruelty on corruptness, he had rules that made him not a crime lord but a hero to Gothams people. Dean kept money for a living and status, he gave the rest to his employees and the people. Carmine hustled as much money as he could. Pure Greed.

Then he saw him. In that glorious armor. A hero rising above it all. They called him The Batman. Jack watched him from his television in delight. Jack didn't make a single friend in prison he only grew deeper into himself fixed on the television, and watching with distain the way Gotham had become. And now here someone had emerged someone with power with spirit….surely he had killed to get this power? In Jacks line of work to get power you had to take a life. But here he was fighting for a pure Gotham without taking a life. One day Jack was shaving, the guard was more fixed on his paper than Jacks movement. Jack stared at himself he began laughing hysterically. He had finally got the joke. He had finally seen how humorous life itself all was. We wake just to go back to sleep, we fight just to die, comedy gold. This was the moment Jack abandoned humanity, he became something worse. The guard looked at him confused. Then he dragged, the razor to his cheek. Slash, he drew blood. The guard ran foreword attempting to stop his self mutilation. But Jack cut his throat, and carried on still laughing hysterically. Placing the knife on the sink, he grinned. Blood fell down his cheeks. "No one can ever say I'm not happy." Then the lights grew drew and every door had unlocked. Ra's Al Ghul had released the inmates of Arkham and the criminals of Gotham penitentiary to destroy everything. Jack walked away dropping the razor with a grin. A new lust for life, he would get the Batman to cross the line he would prove this man had no decency in him like everyone else. In a lot of ways Jack Napier truly did die that night.


End file.
